


To Crash and Burn

by thatonegreenpencil



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 11:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1855861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonegreenpencil/pseuds/thatonegreenpencil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Madam, your son's not going to fly."</p>
<p>Despite that, Hinata does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woomy_niisan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woomy_niisan/gifts).



> For my dear friend Kazami1118 because she requested it and I stayed up until 2 AM making this happen. Also wingfic. Because it's awesome.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The hospital lady gives him a big lollipop. It’s big, bigger than Hinata’s fist,  and it’s decorated in rainbow swirls, so bright it makes his head spin if he looks at it for too long. He gives it an experimental lick.

Sweet. _Very_ sweet.

The nurse apparently mistakes his look of surprise for one of delightment, and gives him a small smile. Turning to his mother, she asks softly, “How old did you say your son was?”

“Six,” replies his mother. Her tone is cold. Detached. He feels her fingers squeezing just a little bit harder. He raises the lollipop in his fingers, putting it up to her face as to appease her hard frown. When she doesn’t react, he shakes it around.

She gently pushes him away, cold facade breaking just for a moment to give him a warm kiss on his mop of messy orange hair. Her voice is clipped when she asks the nurse, “How much longer do we have to wait for a diagnosis?”

“Not long. The doctor will be finishing shortly.”

Hinata can sense his mother’s worry, radiating off her like a bad odor. He reaches behind her and strokes her light-blue wings, the color of cool ocean waves. She always laughs when he touches them, puffy and light under his stubby fingers.

She doesn’t laugh today. Her wings twitch away and her head _jerks_ towards him, looking at him like he had plucked off one of the feathers from her wings. The nurse stares. His mother stares, and Hinata swears he sees her eyes glisten when her gaze moves away.

He licks the lollipop. It’s less sweeter than before.

The doctor glides in a short while later, his face frozen in a sad smile while his gray wings flap silently behind him. Something settles on Hinata’s side and he doesn’t have to look to know that it’s his mother, wrapping her wings around him like a cocoon. She smells musky, and tired.

“So?” she asks. The doctor’s smile turns even sadder.

“Miss… I’m sorry, but, there’s something wrong with your son’s wings.”

Hinata blinks in confusion, eyes darting between the three adults in the room. He’s seen his wings in the mirror multiple times, and a few more when his mother had taken pictures of them when they had first grown in while she had been twittering excitedly like a happy songbird as she showed them to him. They had been little white puffs at the time, barely managing to stretch a few inches off from his back.

“I think I noticed that much already,” his mother snaps. “He’s six. He’s six, and his wings barely reach past his elbow when they should already be at his fingertips. He sees other kids flying outside and asks me, everyday, ‘Mom, why can’t I fly?’, and I can see him _crying_ because he thinks he’s a freak. And I come here, to your hospital, where you _claim_ to have the best specialists around, and we sit here for _three hours_ and you come out here to tell me that there’s something _wrong_ with him? I _know!_ I _know_ there’s something wrong, so just spit it out and _tell me what’s wrong!_ ”

“Madam,” the doctor says, his eyes flirting to Hinata’s trembling form.

His mother takes a shaky breath. In and out, just like she taught _him_ to do. “Just. Tell me.”

Hinata doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, because his mother is talking so fast and hard, so fierce. Her voice sounds alien to him, he doesn’t like it, and he doesn’t want to listen to anything anymore.

But he listens.

“Madam, your son’s not going to fly.”

* * *

Later, when he’s older, he learns that it’s called wing-bone miscommunication.

There’s a longer medical term, because there’s a longer medical term for everything, but the shorter version fits so perfectly that Hinata doesn’t even bother to find out what the longer one is. ‘Wing-bone miscommunication’. The bones forgot to tell the wings to grow, to grow just large enough that they could finally taste the air above the ground, feel the freedom of soaring so fast and so high that they touch the sun. And so the wings forgot. They forgot what their purpose was, and by the time they remembered, it was too late.

He has to go to the hospital, every month, to get a checkup done on them. The doctor always comments on how lucky he is to have such healthy wings, because most people with wing-bone miscommunication have to amputate their wings by the time they’re four because they become so fragile and weak that the blood in them stops circulating, which can become painful, or even fatal later.

What’s better: being flightless or wingless?

Hinata’s wings are smaller than everyone’s, no surprise there. While everyone else in his fifth grade class has big, majestic wings of all different feather types and colors that spread and flap and _glide_ , he has small, puffy, white wings, like the wings of a chick. A clumsy, useless chick. He’s even nicknamed just that; the small chick.

Hinata hates his wings. He hates his wings even though his mother kisses them everyday when he comes home, strokes her slender fingers through the ruffled ends, reminds him to brush and wash them (which, as much as he hates it, he does because he hates to make her sad), and calls them ‘the wings of an angel’.

“What kind of angel can’t fly?” Hinata grumbles one day, wiping the juice off the corner of his mouth. 

“The kind that are smart enough to realize they don’t need wings to fly,” she replies with a smile.

He doesn’t think much of it.

Then, one day, as he’s walking home from school, he’s scared half to death by a sudden voice from the nearby appliance store shouting, _“Another point to Karasuno!”_ followed by the roar of thousands.

Hinata turns his head and sees bright lights and a big court, kind of like a basketball court but-

And then something _moves_. No, not moves- _flies._ But that’s impossible, because the person’s gray-speckled wings seem just a little too short to carry the person’s body weight, but he’s off the ground; so _very_ high off the ground and a whip of skin flashes across the pixelated screen-

_“And the Small Giant scores again!”_

Hinata doesn’t know when his face had gotten so close to the screen, but he can now see the person’s neon 10 on the back of his shirt, flapping like a proud flag as he turns, smiling as his teammates clap him on the back, saying inaudible praises. The Small Giant’s wings are small, underdeveloped, but anything but fragile as they raise proudly, quivering slightly under the bright lights surrounding it. 

_“He’s really brought the flight back to Karasuno, hasn’t he?”_

And then, Hinata sees his path, carved out before him on a feather-covered road.

_Volleyball._

* * *

“Volleyball?”

Hinata nods, and then bows again. “ _Please_ , guys, this tournament is going to be my first one, I’ve been practicing for _months_ so I’m _begging you here-_ ”

“I know,” Izumin cuts in quickly, before Hinata starts getting emotional. He exchanges glances with Kouji and adds, “We _both_ know how hard you’ve been trying. But, come on Shou-chan, these are _pros_ and we’re-”

“Soccer and basketball players,” Koujin says, and then immediately regrets it when Hinata’s eyes dart to the ground.

“Well, I mean, that’s okay. I don’t want to force you into anything, I know you don’t really know about volleyball anyway, it’s okay, really,” Hinata blubbers. “I mean, I’m already thankful to both you guys for tossing to me so much-”

Both Izumin and Kouji have flashbacks of a bouncy, first year Hinata coming up to both of them after school and asking, “I’m sorry, but could you just toss this volleyball to me a few times? You’re the only ones around here, and I just really want to practice a little…”

His eyes had been brimming with confidence then, despite ‘volleyball freak’ added to the pile of names the other students called him. Tossing in the corridors, the courtyard, with the girls’ volleyball team, with bruises on his hands and forearms. Three years’ work, all leading up to this.

How could either of them say no?

“We’ll do it,” Izumin says.

Hinata’s whole face lights up into a grin and Izumin sees his wings peek out from behind his shoulder blades, trembling with excitement. _‘It’s worth it,’_ Izumin thinks.

Kouji shoots a pointed look towards both of them. “This is great and sappy and all that, but I’m pretty sure we need more than three people to play volleyball.”

“Don’t worry!” Hinata pipes, as if they should be the ones worrying. “Three first years joined this year, can you believe it? I’ve trained a little bit with them, they’ve all got the basics down, so we’re definitely good! Hm, I guess I’d better explain the basics to you guys, huh? So, I’ll start with the spiker first, because they’re the coolest…”

And soon, the six of them step into the wide gym, listening to the squeaking of sneakers and the slap of when ball meets skin.

Hinata takes it all in, wanting to carve the memory into his mind forever. The drills and warm-ups the individual teams are doing, the arch of the multiple balls as they sail through the air, and most of all, every single one of the player’s wings, all different sizes and shapes and colors. Every pair is pointed upward, tense with anticipation.

“Shou-chan,” Izumin says, tapping on his shoulder. “They’re tall.”

Hinata’s breath quivers, because Izumin is right. Every single person in the gym  looks tall, looming, not just because of their real height, but because of the aura of determination around them, of experience.

“We can do it,” he says, gripping his hand into a fist. “We’ll cream them, I’m sure! I’m more than sure! They have height, but I can outjump them!”

“Remember, Shou-chan’s really good at jumping,” Kouji added, earning a grin from Hinata and weary smiles from the rest of the team.

Hinata’s hand suddenly grips his stomach. “But first,” he groans, limping away, “Bathroom…”

He hears Izumin sigh, “Shou-chan…” behind him, but he pays no mind as he stumbles out, moaning all the way.

When he’s finished doing his business, he feels exceptionally better, as if all his worries had been flushed down the toilet (literally). Then, he hears a cool voice floating from the entrance. Curious, he peeps his head out.

“..stop fooling around and get on the bench, it’s almost time for the match. This isn’t the time for you to be dozing off, thinking the name of your school will get you victory.”

Various, high-pitched apologizes float in the air, quickly followed by the pitter-patter of feet, running away. A tall, lone figure remains, watching them go. The boy’s face is twisted into a scowl of obvious contempt, and his ebony wings are arched high above him, eerily beautiful. It’s a striking image, one that doesn’t belong in a dirty school hallway, but here it is.

“Bad vibes,” Hinata mutters, and then starts when the person’s gaze sweeps towards him, cold and calculating.

“S-sorry,” he says immediately, drawing himself up from behind the wall, though he makes sure his wings stay neatly tucked behind him.

The boy doesn’t reply, only looks him up and down until he finally says, “You’re short. Are you a volleyball player?”

“S- _short?_ ” sputters Hinata, all feelings of guilt gone as he puffs himself up even more, striding towards the boy in what he hopes is in a confident manner. “Well, we’ll see who’s talking when I _win_. You’ll _see_ me win.”

“You’re here...to win,” the boy deadpans, eyes narrowing. “You’re from the new team, right? Judging by your shirt, I’m guessing yes. You think you can say that, even though I have years of experience ahead of you? Not to mention height is a key factor in volleyball, yet you choose to ignore it.”

“I _know_ I’m not tall,” Hinata bites, taking a step forward. “But I can _fly_.”

That throws the boy off. He rears, the tips of his feathers standing on end. “Fly? Using your wings is banned.”

“Not _literally_. I can jump. Really high. It’s almost like flying.”

“Are you kidding? It’s nothing close to-”

“ _I won’t_ ,” interrupts Hinata (because, for a moment, there was a sharp pain in his chest and he doesn’t want it to show, especially not in front of this kid) “give up now. I finally get to play on a court with six people, with _a team_ , and I didn’t come all this way just to throw in the towel before the match even starts.”

"We’ll see. The real thing, it’s different.”

“I’ll _win_. All the matches. The first, the second, the third, I. Will. Win.”

The kid takes a step forward as well, wings flapping. “Yeah?” he growls. “When we go against each other, _I’ll_ be the one standing on the winning side.”

Before Hinata can respond with a harsh comment of his own, the guy whips away (feathers almost slapping him in the face, might he add) and stomps off, leaving Hinata in his dust, fuming.

“Shou-chan!”

Hinata twists, face still contorted in a frown.

Izumin glances behind him, in the direction where the guy had gone off to. “I don’t think you should be picking fights with people already,” he cautions. “Especially one that scary looking. Anyway, come on, the match is about to start.”

Hinata follows Izumin back into the gym but he stand a little bit prouder this time. His wings are splayed proudly to his side, becausing meeting that kid, as much as he’s ashamed to admit it, reminded him that he didn’t have to be ashamed of his wings here. Because here, nothing matters but _winning._

But he feels his stomach drop when he sees who they’re going up against.

“Shou-chan, isn’t that the guy you were talking to in the hallway?” Izumi questions, squinting. “Guess he’s the setter, huh?”

Hinata ignores him, staring at the guy intensely. _‘Kageyama,’_ he reads. He’s surprised that his heart isn’t racing at all. If anything, he’s now more determined to win than ever.

“Line up, the match is about to start!”

Just before they bow, he catches a glimpse of this Kageyama’s eyes. He doesn’t give any sign to have recognized him from before. ‘ _We’ll see,’_ thinks Hinata, just before he shouts, “Let’s have a good game!”

The first few points go by in a blur of motion. The other team is quick (and as Kageyama had said) and experienced, and they barely give them a chance to fight back.

And then-

“Shou-chan!”

Hinata sees it happening, almost in slow motion. The ball flies toward the center and Hinata launches off with his foot and _reaches_ , feels his hand connect with the skin of the ball and he spikes-

and it’s blocked.

He lands with a thump, breathing heavily as he watches the score being flipped out of the corner of his eye. What he fails to notice is Kageyama, staring.

“Sorry!” he calls to Izumi and then rushes back to his original position. “One more!”

He dashes from one side of the court to another, hearing ‘It’s okay Shou-chan’ and ‘you can do it, Shou-chan’ from all around him but it’s lost in the midst of the sound of his heart pumping in his ears as he thinks, _‘The ball hasn’t touched the ground yet.’_ Even when the match point dawns on them, all he can think is _‘we haven’t lost yet’._

He jumps again, and again, and again.

They still lose.

* * *

 “You didn’t give up.”

Hinata manages to catch Kageyama on the steps, but it’s the taller boy who gets out the first word.

“Why would I?” scoffs Hinata. Kageyama stares. Hinata thinks that his eyes dart to a white feather, barely poking out from behind him, but if it does, he ignores it.

“I’m going to be the last one standing on court,” Hinata declares a long moment later.

“Get stronger, then.”

And Kageyama swoops away, black wings fluttering behind him. They look like they’re waving goodbye.

* * *

Karasuno is rough at first, with Kageyama being on the same team and all that. It takes a week and the invention of ‘the oddball quick’ to get things rolling, but Hinata is on a real volleyball team, and that’s all that matters, really.

He says ‘team’, but it feels like a family, more than anything. Daichi (light blue wings, silver framed) is very welcoming, doing his best to fill the gaps of his inexperience. Suga (gray wings, like a dove’s) is warming and caring, giving him advice and words of wisdom. Tanaka (dark gray wings, fleck of white) and Noya (dark red wings) are teasing, but they’re good senpais, even cornering a bully that had been making fun of Hinata’s ‘flightless’ state. Asahi (cherry-brown) who is tall, but kind and sweet and quickly becomes an idol of Hinata’s, and even annoying Tsukishima (hazel) and his lacky, Yamaguchi (olive-green) become a part of what Hinata considers family.

Kageyama grows on him, too.

He learns all the non important things about him. He hates coffee and the smell of burning wood. Also, he hates the color yellow, though he says he hates orange the most, probably just out of spite, but Hinata knows better because he’s seen the way Kageyama’s looked at the sunset like it’s some kind of miracle. He learns that he actually really likes animals but they all seems to be afraid of him, even though he pretends that it doesn’t bother him when an alley cat hisses at him when he tries to approach it.

Kageyama is afraid of horror movies and creepy dolls. He doesn’t actually like the drinks he gets from the soda machine, but he likes to press the buttons on it so he gets drinks anyway. He gets drinks for Hinata, too. And Kageyama cares for his wings, loves them, grooms them. But he doesn’t fly.

“I’ve tried it,” he says one day when the sky is dark and they’re sitting on the bench together, munching on pork buns. “I didn’t like it. It’s not as great as everyone says, you know. It’s cold. You can barely see where you’re going sometime. Bugs fly at your face and splatter all over you.”

“Probably because you’re such a shit.”

“You’re original,” Kageyama retorts before taking a long sip of his drink. “Have you ever wanted to fly?”

Talking to Kageyama is refreshing. He never skirts around the subject of his wings (not like everyone else- even the volleyball team hardly mentions it), and he’s always direct. And Hinata appreciates that.

“Every day of my entire life,” he declares, honestly, openly. “I mean, I used to look up at the sky and people would always be there, just zooming around. They looked happy, free. _Plus_ , people would tease me about not being able to fly but now, I say, _screw them._ ” That gets a laugh out of Kageyama. It blooms over his whole face like a brilliant flower, bursting open to greet sunlight. Hinata get a warm feeling from the bottom of his chest, and clears his throat to rid himself of it.

“I like your wings, though.”

Hinata swivels his head to look at Kageyama, so he can look at Kageyama’s eyes and remind himself this is probably a dream, but a gust of cold autumn air hits him in the face and tells him that no, this is real. Kageyama won’t meet his eyes anyway, but he keeps going.

“I mean, they can’t fly or anything, sure, but they’re… pure. Other people take their wings for granted, but you don’t. You know how precious it is and that’s good.”

He thinks of all the times he had wanted to rip out his wings and throw them out to rot and blurts, “Not really.”

“You know now.”

After a few silent seconds, Kageyama adds, “Maybe it’s just personal preference.”

“Creeper. Who randomly tells people that they like their wings?”

“It was a compliment! Maybe you could just accept it like a normal person, _dumbass_.”

They ramble on long after, petty argument turning into bursts of laughter from both of them. And Hinata can’t deny that Kageyama liking his wings is…

..kind of sweet.

* * *

The ball flies towards Kageyama’s head.

Hinata sees it, he _sees it_ , coming directly at the Kageyama’s head, the extra force (why did Kageyama have to get into a fight with the spiker) likely to hurt him _somehow_. It doesn’t matter how, actually, because all that matters is that he _sees_ it.

If he can see it, he can stop it.

Hinata launches himself towards Kageyama, wings spreading open as he covers the setter, putting himself as a barrier between the ball and the boy. He feels the ball clip the end of his wing, hears something _snap_ , hears Kageyama scream. He hears footsteps rumbling all around him and Suga shouting _“Kageyama, let **go-** ” _and the wail of the ambulance as he’s lifted up into the air, clutched tightly into a ball.

He feels hands beside him, gripping the edge of the metal gurney.

Hinata whispers above Kageyama’s babbles _(you fucking dumbass why the hell, why the **hell** , did you fucking do that, **why the fuck did you do that** )_, and he knows his words don’t go to waste because he feels someone lean in against him.

“It felt like flying, you know.”

He might’ve imagined a sob.

* * *

Hinata feels a hand on his.

He feels detached from the whole situation, what with all the drugs floating about his body, but he knows that the hand on his is warm, caring, nothing to be feared.

“Shouyou.”

The scent of antiseptic crowds his nose, making him hack. When he goes to cover his mouth, and he feels the sensation of something tugging at his wrist. The hand that had previously been on his shifts, enclosing on his arm and holding it back. “Shouyou,” the voice repeats, tone silvery and sweet.

He blinks open his eyes and makes out a stooped shape, a mere haze of cover with a backdrop so-very-white. “Mom?’

“Are you feeling alright, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I…” He remembers a flash of pain and panicked screams from all around him, and he shakes his head to get rid of the memories. “How long have I been here?”

“Two days,” his mother responds, moving her hand over his skin with great care. “The damage shocked your body for a while, but the doctor says you’ll be okay now.”

His gaze darts to his wings behind him, both propped up gingerly on two pillows perched beside him. The left wing is covered in some sort of plastic case. “Did...I break them.”

She shakes her head no. He hears he breathe out, hears how she does her best to stifle the shakiness of her lungs.

“I was…” she begins slowly. “I was…” Her words halt as her hand comes to her face to wipe the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and falling like smooth, clear beads. Hinata’s chest aches.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he murmurs, eyes downcast. She shakes her head fiercely, hair flying, wings shaking.

“I’ve seen you...all these years, Shouyou, all these years of you hurting yourself, just… Please, Shouyou, just don’t do something you’ll regret, alright?”

He thinks of his conversation with Kageyama months before. About how he now realizes the value of his wings. “I won’t, I promise.”

She nods her head, still wiping at her eyes. “There’s a friend here to see you, Kageyama, I think his name is? He’s been here since you entered the hospital, I think he’s dying to see you.”

Hinata sees Kageyama, his placid face breaking open to let out all sorts of worry, sitting in a cold hospital chair for hours with nothing to keep him company but outdated magazines and the scent of sickness and says, “Yeah, could you bring him over?”

Kageyama has to fold his wings to be able to fit through the hospital door, and he looks so small without them arching over him. His eyes are sunken and his face is twisted into a frown, but something in his eyes glimmer when they catch sight of Hinata.

“You idiot,” is the first thing Kageyama says to him, stomping over to his bed with pure relief scrawled all over his features. “You _fucking_ idiot.”

“Wow, that’s the thanks I get?”

“You shouldn’t _need_ my thanks. You shouldn’t even _be_ here, _I_ should be the one lying on that bed, not you-”

“Better spraining my useless wing than you breaking your nose open.” Hinata’s wings twitch, getting ready to raise in a defensive position when an arch of pain runs down his bones, shaking him to the core.

Kageyama flinches back, frown gone. “Your wings aren’t useless,” he mutters, but he won’t look at Hinata anymore.

After a few heartbeats of stiff, choking silence Hinata declares, “I’d do it again, too. Any day.”

“Well, that just proves how much brain damage you have,” retorts Kageyama, but his voice doesn’t really convey enough conviction for Hinata to even take it as a joke. A few seconds have to pass before Kageyama inhales loudly. His dark eyes flicker upward to meet Hinata. “Thanks. I mean, you shielding me, all that. You didn’t have to.”

A familiar scent wafts about the room and hits his nose. “Did you bring pork buns?” Hinata leans over, eyes wide and alert. Kageyama’s wings perk up with what is seemingly amusement.

It turns out Kageyama did bring pork buns, and they share them together as Kageyama catches him up on homework. (Hinata doesn’t really mind.)

* * *

“Can I touch them?”

Hinata’s head jerks up from Yachi’s stack of notes he’s been pouring over. Kageyama’s face is shadowed by his bangs, but is that a flash of red..?

“Touch...what, exactly?”

Concern bubbles in him when there’s no response from the taller boy, so he shifts closer to peer down at him, to figure out what’s gotten into the boy. He tries to ignore the sensation of his feather quivering behind him, because he knows that if he were to stretch out a little more, his feathers would probably brush Kageyama’s and that really shouldn’t make him as excited as it does.

Kageyama ducks his head even further. (Hinata’s surprised he hasn’t bumped his head on the ground yet.) “Your wings, idiot, can I touch them?”

This conversation seems to be going as well as the whole ‘I like your wings’ thing from before. “I-I mean, sure, I don’t see a reason why you can’t.” His heart might be thumping in his ears.

“Okay,” breathes Kageyama, slowly drawing his head up. He doesn’t move after that.

A long moment of silence passes, and soon, Hinata gets sick of the anticipation. “Well?” he snaps. “Hurry up!”

“Shut up, I’m preparing myself!” Kageyama snaps back, color rising to his cheeks. Hinata can feel his own face heat up.

“This isn’t rocket science,” the spiker grumbles, but he settles back, waiting.

The first touch racks shivers throughout his whole body, all the way down to the end of his spine. Kageyama’s fingers are warm against his feathers, and his wings curl toward the source of heat. He hears Kageyama’s breath hitch, but he keeps going, sliding his fingertips in between the feather-spaces, almost stroking him as he would a cat.

If Hinata said it wasn’t nice, he would be lying. It sends waves of pleasure down his wings, and he starts to tremble from the pure bliss of the whole thing.

Kageyama’s hand trails down to the inner down feathers, and it takes almost everything Hinata has to stifle a moan. He, instead, chooses to let out some kind of teapot noise which stops Kageyama’s movements for a heartbeat but he resumes quickly, fingers fluttering lightly over the cool surface.

It seems like both forever and too soon by the time Kageyama retracts his hand. Their faces are both flushed bright-red.

“Kageyama,” Hinata begins, and is horrified to find his voice sounding breathless. He clears his throat and tries again. “That was… _weird._ ”

“Oh,” the other deadpans, scratching at his head. “I mean, yeah, I guess, if you didn’t like it-”

“No no, I liked it!” he finds himself saying quickly. He can feel that his voice sounds far too eager so he draws back. “It was good.” He ruffles his wings, shaking them of the warm ghosts of Kageyama’s touch. “Could I try yours?”

As a response, Kageyama presents his back to him, wings spread out in presentation. Hinata has to stop breathing before he’s able to lay a hand on the sharp-looking feathers, which actually turn out to be rather soft under his skin. They’re not exactly fluffy, like Hinata’s are, but they have a silky quality to them. It’s mesmerizing, the way the light hits the ebony feathers as his fingers shift around in them. He traces a finger around the edge of the wings, and feels Kageyama tense.

“Relax,” murmurs Hinata. He can feel the lean muscles underneath the outer layer of skin, smooth and tense and powerful. Kageyama doesn’t have the soft down that he does, but it’s rather fitting, for him.

“Hey Kageyama?”

“What.” (Hinata gets a twinge of pleasure when he hears Kageyama, breathless.)

“Your wings are amazing.”

* * *

When Kageyama kisses him, it’s on New Years’ Eve and there’s a layer of snow perched on the tips of his feathers. The background noise of fireworks is too loud and there’s a child crying somewhere on the right. The whole team cheers, Tanaka saying something like ‘It’s about time’ and Tsukishima scoffs but there’s a smirk on his lips. The kiss itself is sloppy and barely coordinated and tastes like dango and rice buns.

But it’s okay because for the first time, Hinata’s flying.

 


End file.
